


sandwiches aren't a comfort food

by tranquilatlast



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Angst, Child Neglect, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Cooking, Eating Disorders, Gen, Late at Night, Light Comfort, Sleep Deprivation, Trigger warnings:, more detail in notes!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 17:41:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18197318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tranquilatlast/pseuds/tranquilatlast
Summary: Juno was used to going to bed after half a box of takeout, so the fact that his body was protesting was stupid. Even as a kid, he and Ben would sleep on some fruit and whatever leftovers there were. If he didn't sleep well, he’d just have coffee in the morning. When Sarah would throw prepackaged food onto the counter and disappear, when she would threaten him for asking her to make dinner...His stomach rumbled again and Juno slid out of bed, exhausted and cold and sore.





	sandwiches aren't a comfort food

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mention of Juno skipping sleep and description of Juno skipping meals. A few descriptions of childhood neglect and trauma, including small amounts of available food and threats to burn Juno. Disconnection from reality for a few paragraphs and lack of addressing it. Please comment if you want me to add or remove tags/trigger warnings.
> 
> stay safe! I hope you enjoy!

Juno can't sleep. He usually didn't bother, but it had been a while since the last time he had some actual rest. He would very much like to for once, really, but there's an ache in his bones and an emptiness in his stomach. He knew he hadn't eaten in a while, but did it really have to hit him now?

He didn't even skip that many meals. Buddy and Jet were the only ones who really used the kitchen, besides the times Rita wanted to bake frozen chicken nuggets or something every few days. The crew was well-fed and they looked out for each other in terms of health, but Juno usually got away with his excuse of eating on his own time even if he really just stole a packet of Rita's red fish gummies.

He had a good dinner every night and coffee every morning with a few snacks or more coffee in between, and he didn't mind. Tonight though, his stomach seemed to. It rumbled just then and he rolled onto his side, the metal frame of his bed creaking slightly at the shift in weight.

Juno was used to going to bed after half a box of takeout, so the fact that his body was protesting his small dinner was stupid. Even as a kid, he and Ben would have no problems with sleeping on a small plate of cut fruit and whatever leftovers they had from the night before. If he couldn’t get a good rest, he’d just make himself strong coffee in the morning despite Benten’s disgust for the drink. When Sarah would throw prepackaged food onto the counter and disappear into her office, when she would threaten to press his hand onto the open stove if he didn't shut up and stop asking her to make dinner...

His stomach rumbled again and Juno slid out of bed, exhausted and cold and sore. Once he tugged his blanket around his shoulders, he silently trudged out of his room and down the hall of the ship. The ship was quiet and his thick socks absorbed the sound of his footsteps pretty well as he snuck away. He passed Rita's room, which was quiet for once, and snuck into the kitchen. He should have been more surprised by the fact that he wasn't the only one there but his tiredness made him a little foggy.

The kitchen was the brightest part of the ship at the moment, but still pretty dim. There was a shadowy figure at the counter, methodically layering thin slices of tomatoes on the sandwich they were assembling. It looked simple, but healthy. Juno almost didn't recognize them without a crisp suit or delicate jewelry, but he knew the angle of that jawline like the back of his hand.

“Nureyev?” he asked, voice low and tired. The thief looked over, pausing in his movements. He took a moment to eye Juno up and down, probably taking in how much more of a mess he looked like than usual, before looking away and finishing up his sandwich.

“Juno,” Peter replied in greeting, cutting the sandwich into eight small triangles and starting to clean up. It was so neat, it looked fake. Kind of impressive for a guy who made food at three in the morning, but everything Peter did was extraordinary.

“What are you doing up?” Juno shifted his weight between his feet, debating whether or not he really wanted to stay around him for too long in fear that the strange air of hurt between them would thicken. Then his stomach rumbled silently, like it had been doing for the past few hours, and another pang of hunger struck his gut. Juno frowned and hesitantly padded over to the fridge.

“I couldn't quite get to sleep. I assume you had a similar problem, detective?” Peter managed to make himself look graceful in putting away a jar of mayo, but his eyes looked tired and his charming grin fell just a tiny bit flat. Juno tried not to wonder what had been keeping him up. It wasn't any of his business.

“Something like that.” He wandered around the small space for a second as Peter finished putting stuff away in the fridge. He held the door open for a moment so Juno could take his place in front of it and moved away to grab his food. In his peripheral, Juno could see the man take a seat at the table and pick up a piece of his sandwich. “So... just a quick snack, and then you're heading to bed?”

“I wouldn't call it a snack. This is my dinner.” Juno paused and looked over as Peter took a bite of his food and leaned back in his chair. They met eyes after a moment and the thief tilted his head in question, chewing languidly.

“What.”

“Hm?”

“You call a sandwich dinner? That little thing’s your dinner?”

“Yes, it is, Juno. I'm sure it doesn't meet your standards, considering the experienced state of your kitchen on Mars—but for me, it'll do just fine.”

It used to be dinner, sure. When Sarah had been locked up in her office for the third day of the week, when there were no leftovers left in the fridge, when Benten was sound asleep and Juno didn't want to bother him to ask for help in making actual food. Juno shook his head slightly and looked around to establish himself back in the ship's kitchen. He realized he'd been gripping the fridge door, the cool plastic sticking slightly to his clammy palms. He cleared his throat.

“Right,” he dragged out, finding a carton of eggs on the top shelf and some butter on the shelf of the door. They also had vegetables and processed meat. An omelette, maybe. “You enjoy your snack then, I guess. I'm gonna make actual food.” He got out a bowl, a cutting board, a pan. Juno tried to remember which knife he'd seen Buddy use, which spatula Jet claimed to be the most comfortable. He shrugged off his blanket and left it on a barstool before starting to work.

Peter said nothing in response. Juno was trying to focus on how to use the stove, so he didn't even know whether the thief was looking at him. The only indication he was still there was the soft crunch of lettuce as he ate his own food. Juno considered for a moment, slowing just as he was about to start beating his eggs. He turned, tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut, and spoke.

“I can cook for two, you know.” His words came out quieter than he meant for them to, but they did the trick. Peter had eaten two pieces of his sandwich and didn't look too enthusiastic about it despite his earlier confidence. They stared at each other for a moment before Juno couldn't anymore, and he looked away.

"You are quite full of surprises, detective." Juno tried not to look flustered, which wasn't fair since he was the one who made the offer.

"Look, you don't have to try my food if you don't want to, if you just wanna stick to your sandwich—" Peter cut him off with a kind voice.

“I would be delighted if you cooked for me, Juno.” He couldn't think of a reply to those words or that tone besides turning around, opening the egg carton again, and taking another couple of eggs out. Peter didn't try to fill the silence between them and Juno didn't turn around again despite the gaze he could feel on his back. He beat the eggs, seasoned them, cut up his other ingredients with careful movements.

It was hard to get back into the rhythm of chopping and portioning and cooking, especially with someone there, but Juno tried. He wanted to be able to do this again. He wanted to know he didn't lose the ability to make food in case there was no one else to do it for him. He couldn't just rely on his coworkers to make all his meals, and he _really_ couldn't let Peter genuinely believe a sandwich counted as a full meal.

All too soon, both omelettes were done. He plated one of them and grabbed a fork, turning to see Peter still in his seat. His plate was to the side so he could prop two elbows in front of him, leaning over the table as he watched Juno cook. The former detective walked over and Peter took his arms down, folding his hands in his lap as Juno set the plate in front of him.

“Stunning,” Peter commented, and Juno felt like he actually meant it. The thief picked up the fork and looked at the food with such admiration, it was like he was talking to it instead of about it. The thought was almost enough to quirk a smile. “Thank you for the meal, detective.”

“Yeah. Eat up, or… whatever.” Juno was still cloudy. His head was full of cotton, but seeing Peter's face brighten at the plate in front of him made his chest feel less heavy. He turned again and plated the other omelette as well, but didn't touch it. He set it on the kitchen island and started digging through the cabinets. Flour, sugar, salt. Juno quickly washed the dishes he used and found a big bowl and a whisk.

He didn't bother with exact measurements and didn't remember the technique he used to mix, but the pancakes didn't turn out half bad. By the third one, he could flip it over with a flick of his wrist and it was surprisingly easy. He slid it off the pan onto the growing stack and decided to stop when he got to seven.

It almost felt right. Like he was functioning like a human being, even though it was a quarter to four and he wasn’t sure whether he could trust himself to use more than one burner on the stove at the moment. But he wasn't quite there yet, he was still cold and hungry and there was an ache in the right side of his skull.

“Juno.” He cracked another egg, salted it lightly, and flipped it over.

“Juno.” He split an avocado, hacked his knife into the pit, and twisted it out.

“Juno.” He opened a jar, then another, hands moving on autopilot with his mind drifting somewhere between two stars far outside the ship.

Then there was movement right next to him and he jumped, stumbling away as he turned towards it. Peter stood there, hand outstretched like he was reaching for his arm. Juno looked down at the counter and didn't remember making the peanut butter and jelly sandwich sitting there innocently. Peter called his name again, gently, and Juno tensed up as he met his gaze.

But Peter didn't ask. He didn't ask if he was okay, what went wrong, or what he was thinking. Instead, he just gestured with his hand to the table and offered a smile like nothing strange just happened.

“Juno. You should eat, too,” he said, and Juno tried to will the fog out of his mind enough to answer. He nodded slightly, then did it again, more like a person that time.

“Okay.” Peter moved to the side as Juno looked over the food he made. The omelette, exactly where he'd left it, no longer steaming. A stack of pancakes, the pad of butter on the top long since melted into them. Fried eggs, bacon, avocado spread, cut fruit, a single cup of steaming black coffee, a PB&J cut in half down the middle.

Weight crashed onto his shoulders and he only had the energy to grab the sandwich he made before sitting down at the table. He could hear Peter in the kitchen behind him, cleaning up and putting the food in the fridge. When he came back ten minutes later, he draped Juno's blanket over the chair next to him and placed two glasses of water on the table. The sandwich was still untouched.

Vaguely, Juno noticed the plate for Peter's omelette was empty. Peter took it away to wash that as well. Then he sat down across from Juno, took one of the remaining pieces of his sandwich between his fingers, and took a small bite.

After a moment, Juno grabbed one of the halves of his PB&J and followed suit.

The crew woke up three hours later to a big breakfast warming in the oven and a former detective asleep at the dining table, a large blanket draped around his shoulders.

**Author's Note:**

> again, if there's ANYTHING you think I should include or take away regarding tags/trigger warnings, do leave a comment! otherwise I'd love to hear other feedback so please feel free to comment your thoughts on something you like here or something I can improve on.
> 
> thank you so much for reading! I hope you remember to eat and sleep regularly!


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